There had to be a way to get Dylan off my mind and my libido. I just needed to figure it out.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The next several days were nothing but rehearsal, rehearsal, rehearsal. Between the band and graduation, I was rehearsed out. Plus add in my extra time with Dylan singing scales over and over, I was on the go twenty-four seven. I didn’t get a whole lot of sleep, but that was about to change for the better.
The morning of graduation came up fast. Mom had taken the day off, rare for her especially on a Saturday. Dad was in a good mood. And my little brother wasn’t being a colossal dick. That was new in itself. Mom woke me up at ten for breakfast. I didn’t get home until almost two the night before and was grateful for the extra sleep. We had had our final band rehearsal with a live, private crowd of the elite in Branson and several members of the press. It went off without a hitch.
“So, who drove you home last night?” Mom asked as she put a plate of pancakes in front of me.
I reached for the strawberry syrup. “Dylan.”
“Dylan drives her home every night,” Dad said as he took too many pieces of bacon.
Mom smiled at him and put half the bacon back on the platter. “You don’t get to clog your arteries today.”
“Yeah, it’s Cam’s turn to do that,” Jake said.
I threw my napkin at him and laughed. It was rare to laugh with my family anymore. It was rare we were ever in the same room anymore. I missed this.
“Tell me about Dylan,” Mom said. She sat down and covered her lap with her napkin. Her hazel eyes widened as she grinned. I missed Mom like this too. She worked sixty to seventy hours a week at the restaurant. It was wearing on her. Gray streaked her hair and wrinkles curled around her eyes. She looked old. When did that happen?
“He’s the guitar player.” I ate a huge bite of my stack. Syrup oozed down my chin, but I really didn’t care. Mom’s buttermilk pancakes were the best. “And he’s helping me become a better singer.”
Dad laughed and stole a piece of bacon off Mom’s plate. “That’s not possible. You’re already the best.”
My cheeks burned. Of course, Dads had to say stuff like that about their kids.
“How so?” Mom asked me. Her eyebrows crinkled together.
“We’ve been working on projecting my voice more, stretching my vocals to see how high and how low I can go. Stuff like that.” I sat straighter as the previous night’s conversation popped into my head. Better posture, better vocals. “And simple things like a straight back and deepening my breathing.”
“That’s great, hon.” Mom finally started eating her food while my plate was almost empty.
“How’s work?” I asked, changing the subject off Dylan.
“The same. You know how it is during tourist season.” Mom shrugged. “Are you still planning on leaving after the show ends around Labor Day?”
I nodded, not entirely sure why she would ask. It had been my plan since before Dad’s stroke.
“Of course, she’s heading out in the world,” Dad said with a laugh. “She’s going all the way.”
Mom’s head dipped so I couldn’t see her expression. But I knew it. I didn’t need to see her face to know she was disappointed in me.
Graduation was a rush of emotions, farewells, good lucks, and thank-God-we-survived. While it lasted its allotted time, it felt like longer. Reverend Brand at least kept his speech short and to the point. Then it was over. All of it. High school was finally done. It was surreal. Those four years felt like forever, but they were gone in the blink of an eye.
“We did it,” Iris said, throwing her arms around me.
I laughed as her hug almost brought us both down onto the track.
“Did you see who was here?” She let go and spun me toward the stands.
I half-expected to see Dylan, but it was Hank Walker staring back at me. He pushed through the throngs of parents and stopped.
“Cameron, congratulations,” he said before shaking my hand. He nodded once at Iris then turned around and disappeared into the crowd.
“What the hell?” I muttered, more to myself than to Iris.
“That’s a good question. Did you have a clue?” Iris’s nose wrinkled.
“No. I thought... It doesn’t matter.” I thought Dylan might show, not Hank. Why was he here? I shook it out of my head. There was no way I’d ever find out. Hank Walker did what he wanted, when he wanted. He probably saw the crowd and thought it was a show. Unless he counted the high school band’s rendition of “Pomp and Circumstance”, he must’ve been highly disappointed.
Miranda jumped on Iris’s back with tears streaming down her cheeks despite the huge grin. “You guys are really leaving me.”
Iris laughed as Miranda slid off. “You know where I live, silly.”
I wrapped them both in a big hug. “I’m here for a few more months, and we’re going to have a blast.”
Miranda snorted. “You don’t have to work as a maid.”
“Not this year,” I said. It was a gentle reminder of all the years I did work as a maid or a cashier or whatever job I could get over the summer. “But who knows what I’ll be doing this fall.”
“Singing,” they said together. Their confidence was uplifting, but after this morning’s breakfast, I wasn’t so sure I should leave.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The lights felt brighter, hotter, and just overwhelming. It wasn’t the first time I’d been on stage, but this was so much more significant. It was sold out. Hank was in a mood, stomping around and acting as
